Illusion in his Touch
by Striped Candy
Summary: John is just relieved that he has Sherlock, that he no longer has to live without the best part of him. He muses on their intense relationship and compares how he felt before Sherlock and after he did. A post-Reichenbach oneshot I forgot I had until now (pre series 3, though). Hints/mentions of Johnlock.


They dance around each other in every moment, between quiet inhales and even quieter exhales, the blunt, pierced tick of the hand of a clock. They move around each other listlessly to the sound of creaking floorboards and the clink of transparent glasses and beakers on a kitchen table that hold a remedy to Sherlock's constant acrid irritability. John and Sherlock know the moves to their taciturn dance with each other, have fallen into synchronized steps from the instant John agreed to be Sherlock's flatmate.

To John, it feels . . . _right_. He cannot articulate himself any better than that. Moving to the beat of Sherlock's body, his steps and sighs and smirks, is what he was meant to do. He and Sherlock were meant to contemporaneously live like this with each other, to know how to waltz with each other without dancing at all. John thinks that with Sherlock, everything about himself got a jumpstart. He felt like suddenly he was sure, for the first time in forever, that he was _alive. _He knew right then, from the second they met in St. Bart's, that he wouldn't be surviving anymore; he would be living. John could remember how good it felt to reside in a life that was timed to the sound of danger on their first case together. It was like his mind, the stagnant, static thing, had risen up from the depths of hell and it was glorious to have all these thoughts swirling in his head, to feel like lightening and euphoria had been injected into his blood, his bones, his entire anatomy down to the smallest atom.

And John is grateful that the feeling doesn't go away now, even if he has to endure Sherlock muttering at times about how he's an adrenaline junkie. Of course he is; he's hooked on instability and dying in action. That's why John was drawn to Sherlock, at least initially. He became attached to Sherlock, emotionally, eventually. Living with Sherlock, for John, was like realizing he'd existed without his liver or heart or brain. He depends so much on those organs for survival. And now he depends on Sherlock in much the same way. Sherlock is the best part of John, the _very _best. He can't imagine, can't even tolerate for a second, that someday he might have to live without Sherlock. He needs his detective so badly. It would be like asking him to live without air; John will be left choking on dust, writhing.

Watching Sherlock fall made him realize that, made him realize how precious the detective is to him. Getting him back was nothing short of a miracle, and John will never take Sherlock for granted again, because he can't take the risk of picking at his pain like it was a scab the way he did last time. He picked at his pain until it began an open emotional wound and endured an immortal war in his head, had relentless screaming that turned into white noise and back into screaming again. John can't take Sherlock for granted because if he turns out to be the last man standing again, he's not sure he can endure all the broken pieces of himself again.

But that won't stop John from loving Sherlock. Because now even he can tell how emotionally involved they are, how codependent their relationship is. They can't live, can't survive, can't even breathe and barely function without each other. Which is why it never worked out with Mary, John realized at some point. He always placed Sherlock before everybody, everything, else. Maybe it's not healthy (John knows it's probably and but he doesn't care), but at least he has Sherlock again, so that's that.

So if Sherlock touches John, he lets the taller man. And if he imagines Sherlock's touch, well, he lets it happen anyway. They simply exist together, touches and no touches, with bad telly and take-out, with their silent waltz around the flat, and their loud tango as they dash around London to catch criminals. They will give each other a _look_ and only they know how to read the gratitude and love in it. Things are more intense now that they have each other again. They brush knuckles and sometimes kiss if Sherlock initiates it. It's never more than that, because in truth sex is not something Sherlock is able to give, and John is not interested in anything Sherlock can't give. He is happy with the intimacy they already share.

All of it is enough for John and he supposes it's enough for Sherlock.


End file.
